


It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing)

by debwalsh



Series: Take Up Your Shield and Follow Me [13]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: #buckyandsteve, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Childhood Memories, Dancing, Established Relationship, F/M, Fridge raiding, Gen, Ice Cream, Joyful, M/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 03:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debwalsh/pseuds/debwalsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A random song on the tower sound system suddenly takes Steve and Bucky back to a moment of joy and innocence, but when the Avengers stumble on them reenacting their past, all bets are off.</p><p>Post Winter Soldier, at a time when Steve and Bucky are in a pretty good place.  Plus, we learn something new about Natasha ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing)

“Fridge is empty,” Bucky announced, half buried in the appliance. From Steve’s vantage point, all he could see was Bucky’s pajama-clad ass sticking out of the ice box. The view was more than fine.

“You ate everything last night. You know, _after_.” Steve blushed reflexively, idly wondering if he’d ever stop blushing. If not, based on how his sex life was currently going, he’d be in a permanent condition of blush. He shrugged, mentally reminding himself that there were worse things to be. Then he tilted his head and idly followed the line of Bucky’s ass, his tongue darting to lick across his lips. He could feel arousal building again, shocking himself at how much he wanted this man. Again. So soon after …

Bucky stood up and grinned wolfishly, and the gleam in his eyes confirmed he’d noticed Steve’s interest. “And now it’s _after_ again. What can I say, you leave me hungry.” He scratched his naked stomach absently. “Feelin’ kinda hungry now,” he added, drawing his tongue suggestively over his lips. The way he sauntered toward Steve and trailed his fingers along the countertop, the way his eyes smoldered as he held Steve’s gaze like a promise and a challenge, the way his whole frame radiated want and need and sex … turned Steve’s mouth to dust and his skin to flame. His hands shook with desire and his brain threatened to shut down in a need-induced haze. Yeah, and terminal blush …

And then Bucky grinned, snapped his fingers and cried, “Stark’s got ice cream!”

And the spell was regretfully, instantaneously broken, as Bucky snagged his trembling hand and dragged him to the elevator and up to the common area and communal kitchen. He really was going to have to ask Buck how he did that, flip the switch so completely. It could be really useful. 0 to 5,000 without a blip!

The floor, one level below Stark’s personal penthouse suite, was empty. Not surprising when the sun was just starting to rise, streaming molten gold across the floor, cascading over the furniture, roiling along the tile like a river of lava. The rising sun soon filled the entire eastern stretch of window, reflecting off the buildings nestled below the tower, upper floors cast in fire as the sun touched their heights. Manhattan was a city of reflective surfaces, and the rising sun touched off flame in every last one of them. Steve stood, mesmerized, feeling the heat and the light and the majesty fill him, fingers itching for paint and brush. As he stared at the sun diffused through the haze that was Manhattan’s air space, he promised himself some morning he’d come down here and capture that view on canvas.

“Rocky road or pistachio?” called Bucky’s voice from within the industrial freezer. “Or this caramel stuff, dulcha la lech?” Bucky puzzled out the foreign name.

Steve was reluctant to tear his gaze away from the window, but when Bucky called, he had no choice but to turn; it was written on his DNA. “Caramel stuff,” he agreed, “the dulce,” he clarified walking over to lean on the counter and watch Bucky fish out the tubs of ice cream, snag a couple of very large bowls, a couple of spoons, and spin his way over to the counter. Trust Buck to turn even getting ice cream into a dance.

“Sounds dirty when you say it like that,” Bucky observed as he plunked his spoils down in front of him. His face was alight with glee as he surveyed the various ice cream flavors. 

Bucky basically emptied each tub into a bowl, then slid Steve’s mountain of a sundae over to him while he tucked into his concoction of pistachio, rocky road and cherry vanilla. When he noticed Steve looking at the massive mound of ice cream flavors, he grinned. “What, not enough?”

“No, I’m fine. You’re going to be so high on sugar, you won’t come down for hours.”

Bucky smirked that wonderful lopsided smile that was half sly and half self-deprecating and all James Buchanan Barnes. “Nah, I’ll work it off in no time. Super-soldier after all. There’s gotta be come perks.”

“Hmmph,” Steve responded doubtfully. He’d dealt with sugared-up Bucky before, and it could be exhausting, even for someone with his abilities and stamina. He thought it must be very like suddenly being surrounded by 20 high-strung toddlers on a sugar high, all of them named Bucky. Truth be told, he’d much rather this vibrant, kinetic version of Bucky over the silent, angry stare of the Winter Soldier. He could deal with a little sugar high.

In the now, his Bucky was humming to himself as moved his hips in time with the music playing over the sound system. One of those new-fangled rock songs Steve guessed – he hadn’t really delved very far into the oeuvre yet beyond what he and Sam had listened to on the road trip to New York, so couldn’t speak with any authority on modern music. He only knew what he liked, and he had to admit he kind of liked this.

“Dun-dun-da-da-dun-dun-dun,” Bucky sang under his breath as he scarfed down his ice cream, his feet starting to move along with the music. Steve could hear Bucky’s feet tap-tapping on the floor in time with the beat. This is the way he liked to think of Bucky – sunlight and dancing. Which was strange, because Bucky often went dancing at the dancehalls all night, and would sleep the sunlit days away if he could get away with it. But when they were young, he’d hum to himself and dance in the sun, and one of his favorite memories was Bucky at 14, head thrown back, eyes closed, arms stretched wide, spinning madly to some tune in his own head. 

Bucky started moving from side to side, fingers snapping. Suddenly, he looked up at Steve with the most glorious smile Steve had seen since the ice, since the war. Since forever. “Stevie,” he breathed, his face glowing with delight. “Listen.” He held up a finger and grinned at Steve.

And then Steve heard it too, the familiar beat. 

Bucky’s head bobbed to the rhythm. “Right?” Steve nodded, smiling back at Bucky. “Jarvis, could you start this music over from the beginning?”

“Of course. sir,” Jarvis agreed, and the music suddenly stopped. “When you’re ready, sir.”

“Dance with me, Stevie,” Bucky asked, suddenly right in front of him, holding his hands up for Steve to take them. Steve hesitated only a moment, then placed his hands in Bucky’s. “Hit it, Jarvis!” and after a few orienting steps counting out the rhythm.

_“A hot summer night fell like a net_  
 _I've gotta find my baby yet_  
 _I need you to soothe my head_  
 _Turn my blue heart to red.”_

Shift back, chasse, slide, pick up speed. Suddenly they were whirling around the room together, just as they had as young men ready to conquer the world.

_“Doctor Doctor, gimme the news I got a_  
 _Bad case of lovin' you_  
 _No pill's gonna cure my ill I've got a_  
 _Bad case of lovin' you!”_

Flick and kick, spin. Faster and faster, grinning like fools at each other.

_“A pretty face don't make no pretty heart_  
 _I learned that buddy from the start_  
 _You think I'm cute, a little bit shy_  
 _Mama, I ain't that kind of guy!”_

Bucky gave him that warning nod and Steve tensed, preparing himself to be lifted off his feet and flipped up on Bucky’s hip, swung around and flipped up the other side.

_“Doctor Doctor, gimme the news I got a_  
 _Bad case of lovin' you_  
 _No pill's gonna cure my ill I got a_  
 _Bad case of lovin' you!”_

Another spin around the room, weaving in and around furniture. So much more furniture than they were used to, but they were so perfectly attuned, they just spun and danced around them.

_“I know you like it, you like it on top_  
 _Tell me mama, are you gonna stop?_  
 _You had me down twenty-one to zip_  
 _Smile of Judas on your lip_  
 _Shake my fist, knock on wood_  
 _I've got it bad, and I got it good!”_

Coming up on their big finale, Bucky’s grin went impossibly broader as he slotted his hand in the small of Steve’s back, Steve made himself rigid, and suddenly Steve was catapulting through Bucky’s legs, then rocketed up into the air, then back on his feet for a final flourish.

_“Doctor Doctor, gimme the news I've got a_  
 _Bad case of lovin' you_  
 _No pill's gonna cure my ill I got a_  
 _Bad case of lovin' you!”_

Bucky was laughing, and Steve was gasping from the dance when he looked up and realized that their once empty floor had become incredibly crowded. It wasn’t everyone who lived in the tower – Stark could fit a friggin’ city here – but it was enough. Stark, Natasha, Barton, Thor, Bruce, and that intern of Dr. Foster’s had all piled out of the elevator and were now struck dumb in various poses around the elevator doors.

He could feel the blush blooming up his chest and into his face, and he knew everyone else could, too. He felt suddenly very exposed, and he was, clad only in t-shirt and boxers.

“Well, that answers that question, America. Definitely boxers. And very fetching they are, Captain.” 

Tony stood with his phone aloft, as though he was filming their dance. He glanced up at the upheld phone and grinned at Steve.

Steve challenged him, “That better not be going on Your tube, Tony.”

“It’s Youtube, Cap, and no, I think I’ll save this for my private collection.”

“Not me,” Barton answered with a cackle. “I’ve already got 300 views and counting!” Steve debated strangulation or beating to a pulp as Barton checked his phone, fairly vibrating with delight.

Thor stepped out of the group, arms outstretched and boomed, “Friend Captain, more dancing!”

“Yeah, more dancing!” the slight, bespeckled girl who travelled with Thor and his lady love Dr. Foster cried.

“Who are you again?” Steve asked breathlessly, wondering if this tower could get any more crowded.

“I’m Darcy. You dance great, Cap. Why do you always say you can’t?”

By now, Bucky was back at his mountainous bowl of ice cream, shoveling big spoonfuls into his mouth while Natasha egged him on. At Bucky’s urging, she pulled several containers out of the freezer and started to assemble a concoction of her own; Steve could only imagine the combinations Bucky was encouraging their Russian friend to try.

“Well, I can’t really,” Steve mutters, and then suddenly felt the pressure of Bucky’s chin resting on his shoulder, his arm encircling his waist.

“He never learned how to lead.” And with that, Bucky spun around and headed back for the couch, where he flopped down and tucked back into his ice cream trough. Nat vaulted over the couch and landed next to Bucky, propping her feet up on the glass-topped coffee table, and tucked into her sundae as well.

“Wait, what – so you’re the girl?” Tony demanded.

“He means I never learned how to lead. I only know how to dance that one routine.” At the blank faces staring at him, Steve elaborated. “Bucky wanted to compete in a dance competition held by one of the local churches. Prize was $200.”

“That would’ve put us on easy street for months,” Bucky inserted wistfully, shoving another slab of ice cream into his mouth. Where _did_ he put all this food?

“But he needed a partner to practice with.”

“Somebody who could be available whenever I had time to practice,” Bucky shrugged, and swallowed another gob of ice cream. “Workin’ two shifts down the docks, not a lot of dames were willing to step out with me ‘less I took an extra bath, and none of ‘em wanted to cut a rug at 2 in the mornin’.”

“Somebody who wouldn’t smack you when you stomped all over their feet, more like,” Steve snapped back good-naturedly, then turned back to his rapt audience. “So I learned the dance.”

“And I got second prize. $100 bucks, lasted us all summer and then some. Woulda won first prize if they’d let me dance with Stevie instead of a girl,” Bucky shook his head at the unfairness of it all.

“So, what your saying is that Captain America was the girl.” 

“He’s the girl,” Bucky called from the couch, favoring Steve with a lascivious smile, a view into his ice cream filled mouth, and a wriggle of a very talented tongue.

Steve chucked the nearest non-breakable thing he could find at Bucky, calling him a world-class jerk. Declaring Steve a worthless punk, Bucky tossed a throw pillow like it was the end of the world, slamming into Steve’s solar plexus, doubling him over with the impact.

Natasha somersaulted out of the way, keeping careful hold of her ice cream dish and somehow not losing a drop, as Steve lunged for Bucky and his most sensitive tickle spots. The pair of them quickly thudded to the floor where they continued to wrestle and tickle one another. 

Tony was the first to suggest a strategic exit, falling back to the next level, his penthouse, where he or rather Jarvis would order delivery from Skolnick’s, a deli in the neighborhood everyone liked. “Christ, this is super-soldier foreplay. Come along, children!”

Clint had actually started recording again, and when Natasha realized he was doing it, she smacked him upside the head, still daintily balancing her bowl of ice cream. She glared at him and shoved a massive spoonful of ice cream in her mouth for emphasis.

“Hey, what? That dance could be Rogers’ audition tape for _Dancing with the Stars_!”

Tony literally snorted at the suggestion. “And what – now you’re thinking _Wrestlemania_?”

“Wait – you think that’s possible? _Dancing with the Stars_?” Natasha demanded, and the urgency in her voice brought Steve and Bucky up short. They stopped wrestling and sat up, listening and watching avidly.

“He is the ‘Star-Spangled Man with the Plan,’ after all,” Tony pointed out blithely, leading the way up the spiral staircase leading to the penthouse level. Darcy had already scampered up the stairs, and Bruce had simply announced, “I don’t know any of these people,” and disappeared upstairs after Steve explained the dance competition.

“What, you got a thing for spray tan?” Barton asked incredulously as he stopped at the foot of the stairs. 

“No,” Natasha demurred. “The show features Russian dancers. And a couple of Ukranians. It’s a thing.”

“Hah, you like that Maks guy.”

“So if you get Rogers on _Dancing with the Stars_ , you gotta guarantee me you’ll get me in the audience. _Every night_. Front row.”

“Nat, I don’t have any control over a major network –“

“Then I’ll have to sign up for classes. He’s got a studio in Soho.”

“Wait, you been checking that out? You been checkin’ _him_ out? Do I gotta be jealous, Nat?”

“Just make sure you deliver, Barton.” Natasha’s voice held promise and threat in equal measure as she glided up the staircase, Barton clomping in her wake.

“Hey, you do know I have a better chance of winnin’ that mirror ball,” Bucky called out after their retreating backs. “After all, I got a left foot _and_ a right foot, and I know how to use ‘em!”

“Friend Barnes, I would gladly watch you dance,” announced Thor, but Natasha countered with a disembodied, “But more women will watch for Steve Rogers in tights. Not to mention guys.”

“She ain’t wrong,” Bucky concluded with a friendly leer at Steve, resettling himself so his back was against the sofa. Steve lined up right beside him, and Bucky draped his arm over his shoulders.

“Seriously, that’s what you take from that entire exchange?”

“Well, that Maks guy _is_ kinda hot. Maybe we should sign up for lessons – you, me, Natasha, we could be our own class. He could teach us the Argentine tango,” he added, leaning in to Steve and letting his free hand travel down from chest to stomach, teasing lower. “Or maybe, the rumba,” the way Bucky said the word, it popped, like the sound he made when he released the head of Steve’s cock. The sound that went straight to Steve’s groin. Bucky’s hands followed and Steve groaned a filthy groan.

They heard Tony shout down the stairs, “Jarvis, tell these two sex-crazed geriatrics to get a room. Or better yet, just go back to their own.”

“Ahem, sirs, Mr. Stark asks –“

“Jarvis, tell Tony Stark he can suck my dick –“

“Tell Olaf I’ve thought about it, but no. I’m in a committed relationship. As he should be.”

“Should you?” Steve asked, grinning stupidly.

“Damn straight,” Bucky agreed, tilting his head to cover Steve’s mouth thoroughly and more than satisfactorily with his own.

“But if you get on that show, I want you to wear the tights,” Bucky murmured against Steve’s lips.

“You really like me in tights, don’t ya, Buck?”

“Like you better out of ‘em. More fun getting’ y’that way.”

-End-

**Author's Note:**

> Bad Case of Loving You (Doctor, Doctor)  
> Writer(s): John Martin  
> Copyright: Sony/ATV Songs LLC
> 
> This started life thanks to the imaginebucky blog on Tumblr. I was in Home Depot buying wood to make bookshelves, and I heard this song,” Bad Case of Loving You” on the sound system. I found myself dancing around to it, and I realized it had a jive beat. And I had this thought, “imagine Bucky hearing this song, and remembers a jive routine he conned Steve into doing with him when they were kids, and they danced around Stark’s tower.”
> 
> This is part of “Take Up Your Shield and Follow Me,” my headcannon epic that has already taken over my life, and threatens to do more damage still. A slightly different version of this will likely appear in the final version of the story. There are other works I’ll be posting that may or may not make it into the final story, or may continue life as separate stories weaving in and out of the larger tale.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and I welcome constructive criticism and comments of any kind!


End file.
